


Masquerade

by AnaWolf



Category: Tokyo Mew Mew
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dark, Drama & Romance, F/M, Foe Yay, Freeform, Identity Issues, Masks, Masquerade, Party, References to Depression, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 05:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaWolf/pseuds/AnaWolf
Summary: As she looked around the room, Zakuro realized they were all wearing masks. And she? She wasn't different from that fauna of hypocrisy





	Masquerade

_Masquerade_   
_Paper faces on parade_   
_Masquerade_   
_Hide your face,_   
_So the world will never find you_

The ballroom was planned to be something taken from a dream. It was easy for the guests to imagine themselves back to an era of princesses and knight and this to be an occasion when lovers would find a way to meet, regardless of whether such feelings were allowed or not.

Though one knew there was a meticulous care in each curtain, each position of a decoration and its precise shade, there was no way to delay in such thoughts. The stimuli around was enough to chase them away, as if thoughts related to details of reality had no means to survive in an environment of this nature.

Along with the flawless beauty, there were the guests themselves.

Zakuro knew she would sooner find two equal snowflakes than two masks alike, as if the ball was meant for a fauna of exotic creatures that had their society hidden from human eyes and laughed when referred to as "myths". Every element here was weaved together, becoming a seduction to any possible sense of the body and soul. The girl had no doubt that such Glamour (and the word, in her mind, was deserve of a capital letter) would have enchanted anyone, be through beauty or mystery…

Perfection.

Then why wasn't she dancing?

Her gloved hand ran over the skirt of her lilac dress, as if to smooth a wrinkle. It was a simple garment, the only adornments being a line of small stones on her waist and one on the collar. Her mask was a darker shade with the same black stones around and some lines painted on it. Overall, it was a rather plain visage if compared to most of the attires, especially the costumes.

Zakuro found it to be rather preferable, though.

Not that it had discouraged some attention, either. Not that there was any care in her for such.

Why had she accepted the invitation to begin with? Why was she even _here_?

She knew herself enough to be aware that she wouldn't be enjoying herself like those who were dancing and giggling. Then why?

The answer, which had been silenced when replying to the invitation and merely stirred hours ago when she had been getting ready, slithered again inside her. The mask was only upper-face, but she had mastered the art of taking a deep breath with no one noticing to the point her body did it without need for thought.

The thing inside her moved again, not unlike a serpent that had made a nest for itself among her entrails.

She knew why.

She couldn't just refuse.

When invited for such an event, especially if by someone who was rich and famous enough, it was always in one's best interests to attend, regardless of what they might feel. Free will had almost nothing to do with such things. This was a lesson she had learnt earlier in life… Even now, she remembered well the rumors and gossip that had followed her refusal to a similar situation… Honestly, she hadn't been rude, she had just said she was sorry and couldn't go. Apparently, it had been enough to incite whispers of poison.

While it wasn't in her to bow down to other's desires merely to please them, she enjoyed her profession and if such was necessary to maintain a decent reputation, what else was there to do? She didn't regret her career, the passion in her was genuine, but Zakuro was not blind to the fact that she was always standing over a very thing ice…

There were some unspoken rules to be followed. Always be discrete, always be nice. Never go out with anyone in public. Control your impulses. Be pleasant to those of "high society".

It was either that or bear the risk of becoming a target for rumors that would easily evolve into unfounded scandals that would not be forgotten, even after proven false. Young as she was, she had already bear witness to people who believed themselves able to defy the system. The result had been ostracization and humiliation with tears at the end. After all, after entering such world, you could not truly return, there was no "starting over" when there would always be people who would recognize your face and remember past events that had been forever recorded on paper.

Under her skin, her flesh shivered… Strange, she had not noticed it…

Zakuro ignored.

"Excuse me, lovely lady…" A voice made her turn, facing a beautiful costume of dark red. The mask, shaped as a fox, left the lower face exposed. As she turned, its muscles worked to form a smile. The stones on the mask, which could be taken (or be) diamonds twinkled under the lights as captured stars. "May I have this dance?"

Oh, a new song had just started. Zakuro had not realized it… It was most unlike her…

In a matter of few seconds, she examined the man. The smile was molded to be pleasant, but her attention was in the eyes under the mask… Even without the senses of a wolf, Zakuro would have perceived _something_ in the depths of those dark wells. There was no name for it and perhaps, it was for the best.

After seeing it, the illusion of the smile didn't work so well. It was an arrangement of flesh ligaments and whatever was underneath it, didn't match the sweet-shaped words. She worked her own flesh into a smile of apology, forcing regret into her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I can't right now… Maybe later?" The addition had the precise amount of lament and of almost begging that he would try again, that she would accept a second invitation. The man's expression suffered no alteration, yet she was sure there was a new coldness here as he bowed. Many women would have either giggled or have swooned at the display…

Zakuro felt there was mockery here.

For a second, when he promised to return before turning, Zakuro could pierce the veneer of his act, seeing his reality underneath: Scorn, depreciation… And anger.

He disappeared among the crowd.

Why her body felt cold?

There was no reason for such…

It wasn't as if this was her first party of such sort, so why the feeling persisted?

Looking around, a part of her mind registered that every guest was wearing a mask… It was a ball, but the costumes weren't absolute mandatory, let alone the masks… Yet, she couldn't see anyone without one… Her thoughts went back to the man of just now and their exchange. It was one of the rare times nowadays when she thought about how easy it was to arrange her face into the necessary expressions, along with her tone of voice.

" _A mask made of flesh"_

The thought was pushed away as if it was something disgusting and poisonous.

She was no different from that fauna of hypocrisy.

She took another breath, her body at once reacting to the crack inside by closing it before… Before _what_?

More than before, Zakuro wished she was not here… Or that she could disappear, to mix herself with the decoration as a statue of sorts and remain there, untouched. Some nerve endings rebelled against the command for stillness, forcing her to feel the iron chains that usually came to her in hours deep into the night when sleep avoided her.

Her smile returned, a programmed reaction, when a woman passed by and greeted her with a honeyed voice. Was it her enhanced senses or the falsehood was just _this_ obvious?

Would Zakuro have met skin and flesh, should she touch that woman's hand? The idea felt weird, as if the figure who had just passed by was made of lies, lacking substance, less than a ghost and far more twisted… Once again, Zakuro tried to suffocate the sensation, but it held on her nerves as spiders, refusing to leave.

A group of harlequins and fantastic birds were talking among themselves, whispering as to not disturb the music. The fact they glanced at her when it seemed she was looking elsewhere denounced the subject. Not once she considered approaching for satisfactions or pretending to join the conversation. At one moment when they were looking, Zakuro turned suddenly. The surprise was brief and their reaction as quickly as hers: They smiled in a greeting-like way and some even waved politely. Zakuro repeated the gestures.

Sweet smiles, false smiles…

Always the same, along with words. A cycle that would repeat itself over and over. This was but a stage in another act, on a play that seemed to never end… Her instinct, her very core, shivered and suddenly, this was no ballroom, but a golden cage and the music was but the sound of insanity…

The music, the guests, the food… They were all elements of a nightmare, dressed up as a dream.

But this wasn't a nightmare. It was real.

_Masquerade_   
_Every face a different shade._   
_Masquerade_   
_Look around_   
_There's another mask behind you_

She should dance with someone.

Not out any change of mind, she just knew she should pretend to be enjoying herself and loving the party. Join, as she always would, that fauna of lies and falseness, taking her place among spiders that would spin beautiful threads with poison inside… To what purpose, though? To attract others? To call upon flies which would either become spiders or entertain them with their failure to adapt?

Zakuro didn't know. She wished those thoughts would be silenced, but they were the ones that would plague her when she was alone at home, especially during sunset or during insomnia, when the person was most vulnerable to thoughts of this nature…

As if her decision of accepting the next invitation for a dance was transmitted in a wave that could only be sensed by a few, someone approached her. She had not noticed him until now, which was not unexpected. His outfit was black, almost as if he was dressed in darkness itself, which was enhanced by the way he moved. The only exception was a blood-colored detail in his cape. The mask was the real give-away for what he was supposed to be, a black thing with horns at its sides.

Without reason or sense, Zakuro felt as if she was being approached by Mephistopheles himself.

As the fox-man, the demon offered his hand.

"Dance, my dear?" And this time, the mockery went undisguised, untainted by pretended sweetness. This raw sincerity, added to her former decision, was what made Zakuro accept his hand. In another occasion, she would not have been so willing to spend her time with this man… Something in him denounced a sort of arrogance that would usually make him someone she would much rather avoid.

The man grinned. It would seem just a pleased expression, but Zakuro could only classify it as a cruel satisfaction. She was unsure if others would notice it as easily as she had, or if it was as obvious as it seemed… Perhaps he was merely playing the part of his costume, but it still made her tense for some reason… Or maybe it had nothing to do with him and it was actually her body reacting to her thoughts.

" _What is better"_ She wondered when he guided her to the dance floor, hand firm on her waist. " _The cruel sincerity or the honeyed hypocrisy?"_

_Flash of mauve, splash of puce_   
_Fool and king, ghoul and goose_   
_Green and black, queen and priest_   
_Trace of rouge, face of beast_   
_Faces_

He was a skilled dancer. The fact he kept her body close didn't went unnoticed, but it was not out of lust… And now that she was not lost in her own thoughts, Zakuro could truly examine him and at once, she realized she _knew_ this man… The sensation was too strong to be passed by as mere impression, but with the lack of context, she couldn't be sure of where.

The following deep breath had nothing to do with an attempt to calm herself, but rather to gather more info through the scents… But despite the proximity, there was a myriad of elements around and perhaps his colony, or whatever he wore, also dulled her sense, making it harder to associate it with a memory and a face…

But she knew him…

His eyes never left her, even as they danced and turned around in a carnival of colors and false faces. Zakuro sustained the visual contact, for it was far better to look into those dark eyes than to look around. The masks were starting to bother her in a level she could no longer ignore… Perhaps because they were more real than the people wearing them.

Herself included.

_Take your turn, take a ride_   
_On the merry-go-round_   
_In an inhuman race_

"You seemed to be quite… Bored." Whether he had fished for the best term or merely used it in favor of something else, Zakuro wasn't quite sure and preferred to not reply the affirmation, which was not of a nature that made a denial necessary. "Not that others would have noticed, I believe."

That was a strange comment, she supposed, but she had heard weird things. At least there was no flirtation, it seemed. She was dancing over ice shards, risking being cut, but there was some reality in it…

"However, it is not surprising." He said in a low tone, his words slow. "If anything, it fits the behavior pattern that is expected."

He looked at her as if speaking of a shared secret… His dark eyes were blades, dissecting her, finding the secrets of her blood. There was no care to be found in his words, as if he was merely commenting on the behavior of a certain species…

Realization hit her.

Her body went cold.

A cruel shine came to his eyes.

The hand at her waist brought her closer, the hold tightening in warning before she could react. Instead of being assaulted by fear, which would be the natural reaction, the girl felt a bitter mix of anger and tension, but there was a sudden wave of adrenaline. If he decided to attack the place, at least it would put an end to that dance, that party…

At the same time, Zakuro knew herself to be standing on a lair of serpents.

One mistake could result in death or worse.

"Took you more than I had calculated." He commented, offering no more clues than her regarding his thoughts or emotions. "You wound me."

In response to his pretended hurt, Zakuro merely observed him with disdain. It wasn't in Pai to be "playful", but she knew him enough to know this wasn't what he was doing now.

"It is not really… Shall we say… _Expected_ to find you in a place like this." She stared at him, the fact that he had also invited her to dance to float in the air between them as he turned her. A sigh found its birth on her and was not stopped before she asked, her voice even. "What are you going to do? Try to kill me?"

She might have been commenting some triviality such as the weather, rather than a possible attempt on her life. To her surprise, his response was a chuckle. Apparently, her words pleased him for some reason, which disturbed Zakuro… Only now her system was processing her current predicament, as absurd as it was. She was at a masquerade, dancing with her enemy, an alien who had tried to kill her and her friends several times…

She could have laughed. Her life was a dance of madness, was it not?

"At last you placed your mask aside. It was really becoming bothersome." He turned her almost by force before the girl had a chance to inquiry on what he meant, even if Zakuro wasn't so sure she would have said anything. Despite the warmth of the room, her body was cold. She wanted to struggle free, but Pai did not allow it and held her close again.

"I don't know what you mean by that." She decided to say, the lie tasting like ashes in her mouth. Somewhere, deep inside her where her very nerves were raw and exposed, there was understanding, but it was too deep for her conscience to reach.

All for the better, perhaps.

"Oh, don't you?" He asked as if talking with a small child and shook his head, whatever the gesture might contain ruined by the smile ripping his face apart. There was a violent turn, ending with his hand bringing her so close that the girl could almost feel his heartbeat and suddenly, his face was against hers, his mouth moving against her ear as he whispered.

" _Who are you?"_

_Eye of gold_   
_Thigh of blue_   
_True is false_   
_Who is who?_

Zakuro thought he must have been mocking her.

"What kind of _asinine_ question…" It took one glance to learn he hadn't meant her name. They danced around the room. Colors seemed to get mixed, the movement allowing her to catch glimpses of the unreality underneath the brightness, which now assaulted her senses as being far too polished, too shining… The music carried on, wrapping itself around their limbs, but there was something hidden under and inside the notes…

The veneer of delight and enchantment was still strong enough. In that dance, one could not say which was true or false anymore, rendering the senses useless.

A new sickness came to her stomach, echoing in her body. She was suddenly disgusted, disgusted at the colors and the people around. Everything around was just a sweet covering meant to hide something putrid, filled by maggots…

"This is not what I meant." He said coldly, the sound of his whisper somehow stronger than that of the music, as if they were as water and oil. "And you are aware of it."

She could not define his expression and knew better than to try. The dull pain in her body could have come from a stab or slice, lack of blood nonstanding and Zakuro knew it didn't come from his words or the elements around, but a crack inside her that had finally been ripped open and now bled all the things she had tried to bury in herself.

At their side, a Pierrot and a silver swan danced together. For a moment, Zakuro was convinced there were no faces under the masks, only blank flesh. The idea was ridiculous and didn't last more than a moment, but its effect lingered for there was a peculiar truth to this. Her insides were bleeding, drowning in something dark and oily that came from deep inside her.

What surrounded her wasn't just hypocrisy and lies anymore, but a falseness regarding… Regarding what? Life? Existence?

She no longer knew.

_Curl of lip, swirl of gown_   
_Ace of hearts, face of clown_   
_Faces_

"No, I…" She felt she might be sounding as a child when facing an accusation and became quiet, trying to regain her self-control while being angered at herself. It would be better if he stopped talking as well, but Pai had no intention of doing so. Zakuro was not sure of what his intentions were either, and such was always dangerous when dealing what that man.

"I also have not asked your profession or anything regarding the "Mew Project", before you say anything else…"

"What's your point?" Zakuro whispered, managing to keep the growing despair from touching her vocal chords. Fragility was not something she was used to feel, nor something she appreciated, but now it was as if she was about to shatter under her skin…

His gaze softened when they looked at each other.

"I just wonder…" He said, all of him bereft of any sort of amusement. "If it doesn't get tiring, having to pretend all the time, having to be careful with your every move, never being truly free… I imagine it would be exhausting, to never be able to be who you are…"

What was being said hidden in those words and in his gaze was something she would rather have never been in contact with.

"Or could it be…" He said slowly, as if musing on a new hypothesis as he leaned, his lips touching her ear again. "That you don't know who you are anymore?"

_Drink it in, drink it up_   
_Till you've drowned_   
_In the light, in the sound_   
_But who can name the face?_

Zakuro struggled.

Pai let her go.

It meant nothing, she knew it was no different than a cat letting go of a mouse, but she didn't care. The turmoil inside had reached a breaking point and there was nothing left for her to do but to be lost in it. She joined the crowd of masks, never once denouncing her state be by expression or movements. Yet, it was not the alien she wanted to escape of… Despite everything, he was not the catalyst of her storm, he had merely addressed it. No, it was not him she wanted to escape, it was that environment, the figures surrounding her and all the things she had locked away for ages and that now were free to run.

Something had been broken forever this night.

All around, people intoxicated themselves into a stupor of petty pleasure, got drunk in the wine of lies and got drugged in the falsity. All they had was the exterior because they had nothing left inside anymore… Life was lost, rendering the ball into a masquerade of corpses that didn't understand they were already dead. The perfumes in the air danced with the scent of food. What should be pleasant for the senses was a decomposed smell that turned her stomach with rotten claws.

Occasionally, she spotted the demon's black mask among the others, just like she felt his eyes still on her. It didn't matter, she wouldn't have cared if he attacked the place with dozen Chimeras! She might have even thanked him, even as she died in a pool of her own blood, because it would end this, it would be a path back into something more… More what?

The colors were not colors at all, just poor imitations…

And now, overwhelmed by everything, that was the breaking point.

Her stomach burned and though she hadn't eaten, Zakuro wanted to puke, if only to get free of that taste in her.

Pai had made the right question: _Who was she?_

_Masquerade_   
_Grinning yellows, spinning reds_   
_Take your fill_   
_Let the spectacle astound you_

She saw him in the crowd. He just looked at her for a moment, before disappearing again.

He had no intention of just leave, but for some reason, it didn't seem he was just messing with her for his own amusement, either…

Her brain couldn't focus on him or his intentions, the mist kept interfering and she was no longer in control of her own existence… If she ever had… And honestly, hadn't her life always been like this? The part of her that was still able to react tried to stop it, but it was a child's strength against the tide… She remembered as a child, she had been treated as less than a doll by her parents, left to loneliness and silence except on the times when they dragged her along for some party, dressing her prettily for others to coo over her and compliment them on having a beautiful and polite little girl…

Her parents would smile and say that yes, Zakuro was a dear, they loved her, they were so happy… Even back then, she had seen how they would get drunk on the admiration and want more and more, but for all their words, they didn't know the first thing about her. Many others had been like this, people who didn't want a friend as they truly were, but their own ideals of friends made into flesh and blood.

There was no real love…

As for her career, that was something that could not be denied. For all the dreams and pleasantries of a world that was always painted in rosy and golden hues, there were chains as well. After a while, merely being careful and trying to keep your private life safe, the lines got blurred and then… The you got lost.

Becoming a Mew had not offered her a sanctuary from this either. Even among the others, there were expectations that were more like demands… Zakuro didn't know until what point such was because of her career path or just a role that she was, at first impression, best suited for in the small societal structure that certain groups seemed to have. Ichigo as the leader, Mint as the rich girl, Lettuce as the smart one, Pudding as the funny one… Was it so simple? Was it so easily to enter into molds and labels, never realizing how they cut the flesh?

She had hoped that over the time, her _friends_ would just treat her normally, ignoring the details of career or fame, especially in the situation they were, risking life and sanity at each battle...

It hadn't been so...

_Burning glances, turning heads_   
_Stop and stare at the sea of smiles_   
_Around you_

Maybe Pai was right and she didn't know who she was anymore? The sensation came to her as needles in her brain and she had to bit her lower lip, fearing she might start to scream. Her body was torn between suppressing shivers and give in, desperate to have some freedom, any _freedom,_ and forget the consequences…

People would sometimes come near her and ask "Do I know you?" or "Are you who I think you are?"… It was ridiculous, sure, it was just a conversation-starter like many others, but the terms used bothered her more than she would ever be able to admit… Before this night, Zakuro wouldn't probably not dwell in such thoughts, having trained her own brain to disperse these ideas as soon as they came to life.

Part of the wolf-girl, the one already used to the chains, having grown in them, still tried to refuse the subject… There was no use, after all. So, it was better to not listen, to not think and just be quiet…

But there was no refuge, no place to hide…

_Masquerade_   
_Seething shadows breathing lies_   
_Masquerade_   
_You can fool any friend who ever knew you_

A dizziness, not unlike one that precedes a fainting due to excessive drinking, came to her. The idea of fainting in that dreadful place, among those creatures twisted by their own lies, was enough to force her brain to keep the mist at bay. It was a thought without sense, of course, they were just humans like her… But the idea was unsettling even so.

She escaped to a balcony, leaning her arms on the rail, her lungs drinking the night air in hopes for relief. A headache threatened her and her entrails hurt, as if handled by uncaring hands… Now that she was outside, Zakuro tried to calm herself. But her body remained dead for commands of this nature and the despair refused to leave…

The feeling of a hand caressing her back made her open her eyes. Zakuro had no need to look to know who it was.

"Tired?" Why he sounded like this? She turned to him, as Pai took off his mask, leaving in over the stone-like rail. For The first time, especially now they were away from the artificial lights, she could see him more clearly.

"Are you?"

He said nothing, but his eyes gave the answer.

Slowly, as if dealing with a wounded being, Pai approached. Seeing no refusal, he held her. Zakuro closed her eyes, resting her head against him… At that moment, there was nothing to think about, be the mews or that war or herself…

The masquerade was over.

The play had taken over her life had come to its final act.

The chains had been broken…

When they distanced themselves, Pai offered his hand as he had done before.

No one noticed the woman dressed in lilac holding the hand of a man in black clothes… Not even when the air around them seemed to wave while they disappeared…

_Masquerade_   
_Leering satyrs, peering eyes_   
_Masquerade_   
_Run and hide but a face will_   
_Still pursue you_

Only the moon served as a witness, its light reflecting upon something…

A dark mask of a demon… And a purple one with small dark stones…

Both broken, reduced to pieces…


End file.
